Pillow Talk
by thoroughlymodernJulie
Summary: A series of vignettes about the conversations between lovers.
1. Abiding

1948  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>"Maria," Georg said softly, reaching out to his wife from his place in their messy, warm bed.<p>

Maria turned from the window to look at her husband, smiling. "I was just admiring the moonlight while you slept," she explained. "It's so beautiful, tonight."

"You're beautiful always," Georg said, pulling back the covers as Maria moved back toward him and slipped into the bed to cuddle up against him.

"You try so hard to stay awake," Maria said some minutes later, nestled in the crook of one arm, a hand rubbing gently up and down the length of Georg's torso. "And once, you would until _I_ fell to sleep. But I rather prefer this turning of the tables."

Eyes closed, Georg whispered, "Why is that, love?"

"It's such a gift, the moments I get to spend watching you shift from lover to merely a man in need of slumber. I understand why you like to do the same to me. I think the difference is that the years have chipped away your desire—no, your need—to be the one with the last word, so to speak."

Raising an eyebrow, Georg let a low chuckle rumble from deep in his chest. "Last word, with you?"

"What I mean to say is that… well, you've always been comfortable with me, and sometimes still to my surprise, I with you. But your guard coming down entirely has been the work of years. I have seen glimpses of it, caught you unawares when least expected, but now… you don't even try to keep the pretense running that you must be the one to bid the night farewell. You make love to me, and if you need to, you'll fall asleep soon thereafter."

"I am getting old," Georg half-joked. "We have two young children, and seven others besides. Of course I'll go to sleep!"

"No, I remember many nights when Rosemary was tiny where you would stay awake and hold me after lovemaking even when I would beg you to simply close your eyes and grab what little sleep was to be had. And," she said with a pointed upward glance, "you are most certainly _not_ old. Not after what we've just done."

"Maybe I no longer feel the need to be the strong one all the time," Georg teased.

"I see your vulnerability as plain as day now, without reservations. I have known it exists almost as long as I've known you, but the moments where I have been privy to it were, until more recently, quite sparse. As your wife, I get to discover you all over again every day, and with that comes a new level of comfort and understanding. What a blessed woman I am!"

Stifling a yawn, Georg asked, "Is this your pensive way of saying I never bore you?"

"Ooooh, you!" Maria cried, "Always impertinent, with that grin in place!"

And indeed, Georg was sporting a crooked grin as he dropped kisses on top of Maria's head and pulled the covers tight about their shoulders.

"Never fear, my love, my darling. I hear you. I hear your earnest entreaty. I know your love. It grows with each passing day. It makes me a better man. Ten years on, and you call yourself blessed. It is only a fraction of the amount to which I have been blessed by you."

"You'll never accept that we are equally blessed, will you?"

"With respect to our children, yes. With respect to you? No."

Maria sighed, looking at the clock over Georg's shoulder. "Goodness, it's nearly midnight."

"And you woke me!"

"I did not wake you, Georg," Maria said firmly. "You woke of your own accord."

"I woke because your side of the bed was empty."

"It isn't anymore."

"No."

There was a faint creaking noise from above as Georg said this, and both parents held their breath as their gazes moved from one another up to the ceiling. Little feet shuffled about, and eventually they heard a door clunk shut again.

"Thank God," Maria breathed, "I was afraid we'd have company… six is really too old. Her feet are so cold!"

"You complain about cold feet," Georg grumbled. "She has kicked me square in the groin enough to make me question my virility."

Maria giggled slightly at this, unapologetic. "She asked me today why Johannes can't have been a girl. I told her that it's because God wanted to bring some balance to our number, and she did not appreciate it."

"Could this possibly have anything to do with his having broken Rosemary's favourite China doll?"

Maria sighed, recalling the past day's events, and how absolutely incensed her daughter had been. "She said she hated him, and wished he had never been born. I got angry with her, angrier perhaps than I should have done, so once she cried her tears, she asked me why he can't have been a sister because she wanted someone to play with her and not break her things. I said that he broke her doll because he is still very little and does not know better, and we must be kind and patient and she has to set a proper example."

"Mmm," Georg agreed.

"I suppose we should have guessed that she would be a bit of a frightful child," Maria mused. "She's such a darling, but on her terms, and she was most certainly a fussy baby. I don't think I slept more than three consecutive hours until I fell pregnant with Johannes, and even then I only managed it because I was so completely drained."

Burrowing deeper under the covers, Maria looked up to see that her husband had fallen asleep stroking her hair, and that he had a slight smile playing at his lips. Pressing a kiss to his chin, Maria curled up snugly beside him and shut her eyes, filled with a warm sense of belonging as she listened to her husband's steady breathing and felt his heart beating beneath her hand.


	2. Tenacity

1945  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>Georg woke to the feeling of a distinct inability to move his legs: something was obstructing his movement, something heavy and warm. Elbowing his way into a sitting position, he groaned at what he saw. Nestled between his knees was the rather smug-looking ginger cat that Gretl had found in the barn last week. Reaching out, Georg picked it up by the scruff and frowned, ready to get up and toss the animal back out the open window from which it had clearly come.<p>

"No, don't," came Maria's voice. Georg looked over his shoulder, only to realize Maria was wide awake and lying on her side, one hand propping her head up as she grinned at him with a sparkle in her eye.

"The thing probably has fleas and it's been in our bed!" Georg protested.

"I don't think you're aware of just how hilarious this is," Maria chuckled, unable to hold back her laughter. "I wish you had seen your face when you picked him up. You'd be happier if I sent you outdoors to fertilize the fields."

"Right you are!"

Reaching out to scratch the quietly blinking cat behind the ears, Maria smiled when it began a rusty series of purrs. "He's very calm. You're lucky you haven't been scratched to shreds, yet."

"Another reason to toss him out the window, Maria," Georg said, but with a disgruntled sigh he settled the cat on the bed between them, careful to keep the feline on top of the bedcovers. "Is our door locked?"

Maria squinted toward the door, shaking her head. "I don't see the key in the lock."

"If Gretl sees him, she'll think it's license to keep him around," Georg groaned.

"Don't worry," Maria laughed, "we'll hear her before we see her."

"She's so fast, though," Georg muttered, running a long finger down the cat's spine in spite of himself. The tomcat's back rippled and his purring increased; he nudged Georg's hand insistently.

"You know…" Maria trailed.

"Oh, no," Georg sighed.

Maria frowned at her husband. "I was going to suggest that we get a mouser, as I have noticed we have a mice problem in the basement and I've seen some in the barn as well."

"Not this one, you mean?"

"I wasn't thinking so at first, but now I think that maybe you deserve this scruffy fellow for a barnmate," Maria said severely. "Seeing as he's already your bedmate!" She pushed herself into a sitting position and hauled the cat into her lap, tickling his chin. "He's so lazy that he wouldn't catch a thing unless it was on top of his paws."

"I'm not the one that left the window open all night as invitation for him to claw his way in," Georg retorted, eyeing the cat with mistrust.

A knock sounded at their door, and the bickering paused as they looked at each other, then the cat, then to the door.

"Yes?" Maria called out tentatively.

"Mother?" came Rosemary's muffled voice. "Mother, the kitty makes me sneeze! Can I have him back now?"

"What?" Maria said quickly as she grabbed her robe and tied it about her, hurrying to let their littlest child into the bedroom. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face tearstained, and she was sporting a trembling lip and several angry scratches.

"Darling, when did you put the kitty in here?" Maria asked, kneeling down to wipe away her daughter's tears and pull her into her embrace.

Georg had climbed out of the bed upon Rosemary's entrance, and with the cat in tow, knelt down to his daughter's level along with his wife. The girl reached out and grabbed the striped cat's bushy tail happily, earning a low growl from the animal.

"No, Rosemary," Maria said hurriedly, unclasping her tiny fingers. "Kitties don't like that, it hurts them. When did you bring him here?"

"When the sun woke up," the girl sniffled, looking up at her mother with large, sad eyes.

Maria sighed and picked up her daughter, sitting down with her on the edge of the bed. "Rosemary, Papa is going to take the kitty back outside because he doesn't belong in here. You are going to get a bath and help me wash the bedclothes today, alright?"

"Yes, Mother," the child conceded, hugging her mother tightly before sliding off her lap and running out the door.

Maria looked up at Georg from where he was standing with the cat, a furry puddle in his cradled arms, and grinned wickedly. "You two make quite the pair; I really hate to break it up!"

Georg grunted dismissively.

"Don't give me that," Maria said. "Put that cat through the window and come kiss me good morning."

"I thought you wanted me to take it out, presumably so it doesn't begin to think of the window as a point of entry?"

Arching an eyebrow, Maria shook her head. "You cannot possibly be stalling over a cat. Heaven help me."

"Technically, this is Rosemary's fault," Georg muttered as he tipped the cat onto the windowsill and pushed him through to the outdoors. When he turned around, it was to find Maria standing there with an amused expression. But instead of saying anything, she simply claimed the kiss she'd been after and sighed happily against his mouth as he deepened the kiss and pulled her flush against him.

Slightly breathless when they pulled apart, a satisfied expression crossed Maria's face and she said with undeniable triumph, "See? Try to be churlish all you want. It won't work." And she stole another kiss, nipping at his neck and humming appreciatively in the process as his hands trailed up her back and neck and began to toy with her hair.

This was followed by a ceiling-shattering bang, and though both parents were startled by it, they simply laughed at the absurdity of their morning thus far, and Maria promised, "Later," as she tore herself away from Georg's grasp. "Don't think we've finished discussing that mouser."


	3. Joy

1938  
>Paris, France<p>

* * *

><p>"I wonder," Georg said with a cheeky grin, "just what I would discover if I were to try tickling your feet."<p>

"Do you really want," Maria giggled, shivering as her new husband trailed a light finger down the nape of her neck, "do you want to find yourself with a bloody nose less than a day after saying 'I do?'"

"It's that bad, is it?" Georg chuckled, pushing Maria's hair behind her ears and kissing her deeply.

"Quite," Maria breathed, seizing up as the perceived moment of closeness revealed itself as Georg's attempt to tickle her abdomen. She drew her knees up and pushed him away as he attempted to capture another kiss at the hollow of her neck; when this did not discourage him, she twisted away with the bed sheets and promptly rolled out of bed and fell with a loud thud to the floor.

Georg scrambled to her edge of the bed and peered down at his wife, grinning at her disheveled appearance, hair hopelessly mussed and she tangled in the mess of the silken sheets, struggling to free her legs. "Call me daft, but I think wine tends to capitalize on your more amusingly graceless attributes, love."

Maria glared up at Georg and stuck out her tongue. "You ordered it, and poured it, and handed it to me, and told me to drink it, and then filled the glass again, and then again."

"Touché."

"Well?" Maria said expectantly.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Georg bent over and gathered his wife into his arms, burying his nose in the hollow of her neck, inhaling her scent. He twirled her about, not realizing that the sheets were trailing to the ground, and subsequently found his own feet tangled in the mass of fabric. Only just managing to pivot back toward the bed, they collapsed together into a heap and laughed heartily.

"I think we should order lunch," Maria finally said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "And I should put something on."

"But I like you this way," Georg said seriously, tracing a finger along Maria's jawline and kissing her nose. "You're magnificent."

Maria snorted, blushing deeply. "'Magnificent' is a descriptor most appropriately applied to my wedding gown, not my naked body."

Smiling at Maria's reticence to accept a compliment in spite of a much-loosened tongue and general demeanor, Georg shook his head and kissed her deeply, only drawing away a moment later to explain himself more thoroughly. "What good is a dress but for the woman wearing it? I can assure you, on no other woman would that gown look even half as stunning."

"It's almost a shame we sent it home with the children," Maria said, frowning. "Perhaps you would like the chance to demonstrate yourself, as you did so well last night… I shall never look at that suit the same way _ever_ again, you scoundrel."

Casting an eye toward the pile of clothing that had been strewn aside the evening before without so much as a single thought, among which was a very nice dress suit of a rich cream color that had been made expressly for the reception and their exit. Along with it were his naval blues; the only thing that they had taken any note of was to place his Maria Theresa Cross on the vanity.

"To which, uh, suit are you referring?" Georg asked, matching Maria's pensively perplexed countenance, if only for the express purpose of toying with her.

"Mine, of course," Maria said immediately, but she colored upon realizing the ambiguity to which her husband was referring and slapped him playfully. "That's not fair!"

"I was merely hoping to find out if you were referring to mine or yours and then use the opportunity to wonder if perhaps you might be looking at _yourself_ a bit differently."

"I don't suppose I'm a virgin anymore, am I?" Maria said, eyes focused on the sheet she was now twisting into a knot in her hands.

Lifting her chin so he could look into her eyes, Georg said emphatically, "Most certainly not."

"You are dreadfully attractive in your naval uniform," Maria said, shuddering. "You should have warned me!"

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, you are diverting this conversation, love!" Pulling the twisted bunch of satin finery from Maria's hands and endeavouring to disentangle his wife, Georg continued, "But first, fair play: how you appeared in your wedding gown was better than my wildest dreams, and I believe I deserved that warning more! Second, what _are_ you thinking?"

Maria blinked. "What am I thinking?"

"I will always want to know what is going on in that mind of yours."

"That is such an impossible question," Maria breathed, unsure of where to start, or whether to start at all, for she could feel the stirrings of the embers of desire igniting themselves to full flame; what was foreign and bewildering was the joy that leaped in her at the knowledge that they could act on this… _she_ could act on this.

"Joy," she said. "That's what I'm thinking."

"Joy?"

"Well, _feeling_, to be more precise," she corrected. "What I'm thinking… it cannot be condensed, I don't think, because I'm thinking so _many_ things. Like how perhaps I should not even be able to look you in the eye after everything that has transpired between last night and right now. I'm sitting here naked with my new husband in a bundle of sheets and I don't care a whit, and maybe I should blame the wine, but I don't. I turned my back on sacred, holy vows to take another vow, and I feel that I have somehow stumbled onto the greatest happiness in my life in doing so. Just months ago I was torn by anguish because what I felt warred with what I had promised. Now, here I am… and I have you. You, and joy, and a peace in my heart that passes all understanding."


	4. Perspective

1950  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>"I rather like having a quiet New Year's celebration," Maria said quietly, squeezing her husband's hand.<p>

"I agree," Georg echoed. "It's been a very long time since we have had that privilege."

Twisting slightly to look at her husband, who was spooned behind her, his eyes on the flames of the crackling fire at the hearth several feet away, Maria pointed out, "Love, we have _never_ had that privilege. Save our honeymoon, I suppose."

Georg chuckled, acknowledging the truth in this statement. "I suppose it just goes to show how far we've come in appreciating the little moments that we can steal for ourselves among the chaos of raising ten children."

"Sometimes I can scarcely believe it. Who would have thought the day would ever come where the eldest children would beg us to let them take the youngest for the holiday so the cousins can spend extended time together? It's even better than having grandparents to come to your aid occasionally."

"Yes… the way I see it, everyone wins: Liesl, Robert, Friedrich, and Hannah get to spend time with our perfect angels; the cousins get to wear each other out, which I do believe would come out to less exhaustion for all parents involved; everyone has a grand time and a wonderful party; and you and I get to spend thirty-six consecutive hours alone together, and most of it in glorious slumber."

"Nicely done," Maria grinned, tangling her legs between her husband's. "To call Rosemary and Johannes together perfect angels is a complete disservice to the testimony Eleanor is to our parenting abilities."

"How can those two be a walking tornado and she docile as a lamb? Part of me wishes that we'd got the set!"

"They are the set," Maria laughed, seeking a quick kiss. "And you wouldn't have it any other way, I know it."

"You're right," Georg sighed, clambering to his feet to throw more wood in the grate and stoke the fire.

Maria sat up and drew her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry… it seems that every chance we do have to be decidedly childless, all I can do is think about them and talk about them."

"Mea culpa. You _were_ off to a good start," Georg pointed out. "It was I that brought up our children."

"So it was," said Maria. "So, how about I turn this conversation back to the reason we are alone: ringing in the New Year."

"1950. Difficult to fathom."

"Do you wish we had gone back?"

"A difficult question to answer," Georg responded. "Impossible, in some ways. But extremely easy in others. My family is happy and healthy and prosperous here. That is what matters most. But if I were a man unto myself, simply Georg von Trapp… every day I wish it. Transition is difficult and ugly and nobody mourns its end, but somebody has to step up."

"I remember," Maria said quietly. "It colored my childhood so darkly."

"It is much easier now, in hindsight, to see the forest that was the end of the Great War for us of the Empire," Georg mused, "but its effects were no less devastating. It is exceedingly difficult to watch it happen again, though admittedly some valuable lessons were learned and things are different than before."

"I sometimes worry that our returning to Austria might put us on the wrong side of things," Maria admitted.

"I don't think we should return unless neutrality is declared and not expressly coerced," Georg said. "You are right to worry."

Reaching behind her, Mara groped around for the pillows they had pulled off the divan an hour before and piled them in front of her, stretching out to lay on her stomach. She beckoned for Georg to join her once more, and he did so, running a strong and warm hand up and down the length of her back. "It seems reckless to place ourselves in a volatile situation when it is not imperative," Maria said as the clock chimed the quarter hour. "It is. Especially as we have young children."

"If this had all come to pass ten years ago, things would be different. We would've gone back."

"Yes," Maria agreed, "though we were also much closer to home at the time."

"Even so," Georg shrugged. "The draw to return was still raw, then. It has since been 'cauterized,' as Friedrich would say, and each passing year since then has made it easier."

Maria smiled, biting back the urge to say some old bit of conventional wisdom about time's ability to heal old wounds. To her husband, it was to preach to the choir, and though it often amused him when she said such things, sometimes it was simply better to steer the topic toward a productive ends.

"Then here's to a grand new year, filled with all the hope for a bright and wonderful future."

"To sending the trio to their brothers and sisters more."

Maria laughed at this. "To family."

"To marriage," Georg added with a devilish grin. "And all its joys."

"To my incorrigible husband, who loves to ruin the poignancy of moments!"

"To my wife, who accuses me unfairly of bad form!"

"To good form," Maria said emphatically, uncrossing her ankles and leaning in for a kiss.

Georg rolled over and pulled his wife atop him, letting her deepen the kiss as her fingers raked their way through his salt-and-peppered hair. Somewhere beyond themselves, the fire crackled merrily at the hearth as was its duty, and the grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight, and the couple broke apart with warm smiles to gaze into each other's eyes.

"Happiest of new years," Maria whispered.

Georg wrapped his arms around his wife and she laid her head down onto his chest, breathing steadily and surely, warm and alive and healthy and well. "Happy New Year, Maria," he replied, cradling her to him amongst her small mountain of pillows, thinking to himself how blessed he was to call her his.


	5. Beauty

1944  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>Maria sat down on the bed, pulling the towel away from her damp body and using it to dry her hair. She ran her fingers through it quickly and parted it, flopping back onto the bed with a groan. "I know I shouldn't lay on this until it's dried, but I'm so tired," she commented.<p>

Looking up from the book he was reading, Georg removed his glasses and shrugged. "With that curling iron it doesn't take very long to just use that, right?"

"I miss my curlers," Maria complained. "I always got what I wanted without putting hot metal next to my scalp."

Smirking, Georg shook his head. "Forgive me, but I must ask… did you really set your hair underneath your wimple?"

Pulling a face, Maria rolled over onto her stomach and said, "I never had my curlers _in_ my hair under my wimple, if that's what you mean."

"Then that talk I heard at the wedding…"

"Exaggeration," Maria said, jaw set defensively. "I did go to the trouble to set my hair when it wasn't freshly cut, as it tends to lay flat under heavy material when it's a bit longer, and I didn't have to wear the wimple all the time. It just looks neater and more together that way."

"I do believe that is the most paradoxical thing to ever come from your mouth, my love," Georg teased. "'Neat' and 'together' for the unruly nun who broke every rule imaginable and was an impossible pupil!"

"As you may have noticed, I didn't give up my every vain sensibility, and you should be glad for it!" Maria said archly. "As you seem to enjoy my sewing skills and the fact that, I quote, I 'make a boyish haircut irresistibly feminine without even trying.'"

"I think you have a few other skills I enjoy," Georg offered innocently.

"Right," Maria said, now busy pulling on warm socks and unbuttoning her high-collared winter nightgown. "Skills like singing and playing instruments and wrangling our children and running a farmhouse and cooking and growing a baby."

"Yes, yes, those precisely," Georg chuckled, setting his book and glasses on the bedside table and turning the light out. He pulled the covers up for his wife while she hanged her towel in the bathroom and draped their dressing gowns over the foot of the bed.

"Ready to join me?" he asked, tossing some of the decorative throw pillows to the floor.

"Mmm, yes," Maria agreed, slipping in beside her husband and sighing contentedly as she pulled the covers up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled deeply several times and said with satisfaction, "It _is_ nice to be able to breathe again, even if it doesn't last!"

"I am glad you're feeling a bit better," Georg said earnestly, pulling his wife into his embrace so that he could place a hand on her growing belly. "It never does to be ill while expecting."

"Just keep my head propped up?"

"Of course," Georg said. Her head was already cradled in the crook of one arm, and he had made sure to stack their pillows accordingly.

"Can you feel baby, yet?" Maria asked a half hour later, voice burning with curiosity.

Having only just dozed off minutes before, Georg grunted, but Maria nudged him and he opened his eyes. She had put his hand on a spot just above her navel, and indeed, he could feel a tiny flutter beneath his hand.

"How do you sleep through this?" Georg asked. He could only imagine the hours of sleep he'd be compelled to lose once he could visibly _see_ their child moving about, never mind that Maria was the one carrying the baby.

"I noticed with Rosemary that if I kept very active during the daytime, she tended to be as well and was more likely to stay fairly still at night. If that didn't work, I'm not above an annoyed prod to that foot or elbow and a change of sleeping positions. I do sorely miss my cup of tea before bedtime, but you remember how much of a difference cutting that out made when I was pregnant with her!"

"Oh, ho, do I," Georg nodded, "and it's probably down to your pile of sugar that accompanies every cup!"

Frowning, Maria poked her husband in the chest and said, "You're one to talk, Captain! I've seen all that honey you'll dump into your own cup, and it's almost nauseating."

"Ach, I've been caught," he yawned, kissing the top of her head. "It's not my fault you don't like honey."

"I could go for a nice Assam right now," Maria said.

"Which only confirms my belief that pregnancy completely rearranges your sense for what meals come when and how frequently," Georg laughed. "But love… you said you were tired, and I most certainly am! Can't we sleep, now? There will be plenty of time yet in our future to be wide awake to late hours…"

Maria, however, was recounting their tea stocks now and did not hear him: "I know we've got some Darjeeling, and Louisa likes Earl Grey, so certainly there's some of that, and Ovaltine for the baby, and I'm sure there's also some peppermint tea and ginger tea somewhere in the pantry. Perhaps I should clean everything out tomorrow, sort through the coffee and baking staples as well…"

"Always a whirlwind, you are," Georg observed, reaching over Maria to switch off her bedside lamp. He prized the book she had picked up some time before from her grasp placed it beside his.

Maria settled back into her preferred embrace as Georg lay down again and darkness enveloped them. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "Recite something for me until we fall asleep?"

Casting about his mind for something long enough to lull his wife and short enough that he wouldn't fall asleep in the midst of it, Georg settled on one of his favourite poems for Maria, of the infallible Lord Byron:

"_She walks in beauty, like the night  
><em>"_Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
><em>"_And all that's best of dark and bright  
><em>"_Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
><em>"_Thus mellow'd to that tender light  
><em>"_Which heaven to gaudy day denies._

"_One shade the more, one ray the less,  
><em>"_Had half impair'd the nameless grace  
><em>"_Which waves in every raven tress,  
><em>"_Or softly lightens o'er her face;  
><em>"_Where thoughts serenely sweet express  
><em>"_How pure, how dear their dwelling-place._

"_And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,  
><em>"_So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
><em>"_The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  
><em>"_But tell of days in goodness spent,  
><em>"_A mind at peace with all below,  
><em>"_A heart whose love is innocent!"_

* * *

><p><em>She Walks in Beauty<em>, Lord Byron (1814)


	6. Enlightenment

1938  
>Paris, France<p>

* * *

><p>Georg looked up from his breakfast to find his wife staring intently at him from her spot on the bed. That he had caught her elicited no other reaction than to simply keep on staring, and so, setting down his knife and fork, Georg swallowed some water from his glass and raised an eyebrow at his wife. "Are you going to enlighten me as to what is so painfully interesting that your gaze has not wavered from my head?"<p>

Maria, who was stretched out on her stomach with her chin propped up by a hand, her body draped in a new silk dressing gown, merely smiled.

Unsure what this was supposed to mean and consumed by curiosity, Georg wondered whether to ask her to explain herself, or to see where nonchalance took him. She seemed to respond well when prodded to explain herself, but other times, it was far more gratifying to let it go and then find himself with an effusive or pensive reaction to respond to. Invariably, words would pour out of her at some point.

Deciding that the cheese selection was simply too good to ignore, Georg returned to his breakfast with a shrug and reached out for the morning papers. He was halfway through the theatre reviews and trying to decide where they should go that night when he heard slight rustling, and looked up to find Maria still staring intently, but now sitting upright and cross-legged.

"It's your hair," she said.

"What?" Georg asked. "Going too gray for you, perhaps? Are you thinking of trading me in for that French bellhop?"

Maria's eyebrows knit, and she shook her head. "No, never. It makes you so wickedly distinguished, that dusting of gray. Besides, that boy is nothing to look at, not in comparison to everything I have right here in front of me." She quirked a cheeky grin. "A feast for the eyes!"

Intrigued by Maria's idea that his most obvious sign of his age was a strong asset, Georg wiped his mouth and abandoned breakfast to join his wife. She had moved so they could face each other, and he mirrored her cross-legged pose, taking her hands in his.

She reached out to stroke his face, and her fingers lightly brushed the hair at his temple back. "I love your hair. It's so dark, so fun to play with, so thick, so soft… and this morning it's a wonderful mess, a mess that I made, and I was just thinking to myself how proud I am to have been the woman to accomplish that."

"You're right, it is a mess!" Georg said. "And you're right, you did it!" Leaning in to kiss her, Georg whispered, "Let me tell you a secret, my darling."

"Yes?"

"I love your hair as well. It's so beautiful. A gorgeous reddish-blond. Thick, silken. It always smells so sweet. I love how it's styled because it makes playing at the nape of your neck ever so enjoyable."

Thinking of their engagement in the gazebo and every instance afterward, Maria shuddered appreciatively, recalling the frequent feel of her husband's strong, warm hands on her neck, and how he could never stop himself from beginning to play with her hair.

Watching her closely, Georg smiled at what he saw. And then he endeavoured to seek his answer once more.

"Certainly my hair alone cannot inspire such intent introspection, love," he prompted.

Maria considered her husband with only the slightest flush creeping up her collarbone to her neck, and finally she nodded. "I was thinking, more precisely, of all the ways in which your hair occupies me while you are otherwise engaged in bringing me to some new precipice of pleasure and desire."

Smirking, Georg said, "I like the way you think… and how far you've come in a few short weeks!"

"Oooh," Maria groaned. "Stop it! I haven't had my cup of tea yet and you've already got my mind turning over double entendres!"

"As your husband it is my sacred duty," Georg joked. "But truly, my love, I am amazed at you, at your eagerness, your propensity to be rather a quick study, your passion, your gentleness, your wildness, your depth of feeling, your love, your desire, and all the other things that have no name that I have discovered in you over these blissful weeks here in _La Ville-Lumière_."

"I daresay it has been an illuminating time for us both," Maria breathed. "There's no other way to have got through these weeks than to simply treasure each moment while making the next."

"I find myself continually impressed by your poise, your elegance, your grace, and your class when we are out in public," Georg said. "But I am ever more impressed by your ability to, in the privacy of our marriage bed, not only embrace _me_, but also _yourself_. It is a powerful thing, to seize one's rightful status as a woman, as a friend, as a wife, as a lover."

"Careful there," Maria said with a smile. "You don't want to sell yourself short!"

"I am serious. My respect and awe for you is paramount."

"Then know I feel twice that for you. You have suffered greatly and yet you found it in your soul to love again. That is not something that anyone other than you and our God could work out. That you love _me_ is something I shall never take for granted. You love just as deeply as I, Georg, and I am so incredibly blessed that you belong to me, and I to you."

"I could never express myself as you do."

"Perhaps not with words," Maria acknowledged, "but my darling, my love… you show me. You show me every day simply by holding me, by teaching me, by defending me, by loving me in ways I never dreamed possible. Things simple as reading together, dancing together, eating together, or sleeping together."

Unclasping his hands from hers, Georg drew Maria into his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Thank you, love," he breathed."


	7. Understanding

1940  
>New York, NY<p>

* * *

><p>"I don't see why we should sit on all the money you were able to transfer and not <em>use<em> it," Maria said irritably. "Sooner or later we're going to be dead and then it will be utterly pointless to have gone to the effort at all!"

"We'll need it for basic necessities!"

Giving her husband a rather scathing glare, Maria said, "I hate to point this out, but every penny we've earned since arriving here has gone to put food on the table and there's never anything left. We have to stop living like we have no reserves whatsoever!"

"That sounds rich coming from a former postulant who once turned up on my doorstep in the ugliest frock imaginable and explained it away as an obligation to give all worldly things to the poor!"

"I also did not have the welfare of seven children to my name when I lived that life!"

Georg did not answer this, but merely stared at the duvet, eyes trained on threadbare patch where the cotton was bleeding out, stewing about in his mind over his wife's complete inability to see things his way.

Maria observed this and let out an exasperated sigh, clawing her hands through her hair repeatedly. "Georg," she started, "I don't wish to fight, but—"

"That's it!" Georg raged. "You do want to fight! You've wanted to fight since I refused to call the land agency!"

"But _why_, Georg? _Why _would it be such a terrible thing to find out how much the place would cost? We need the space, we can make repairs—we have seven pairs of hands aside from our own!—we can make a _life_ here! I cannot abide this anymore, this constant movement, travel, misery, and feeling that we will never be happy and safe!"

So, there was her truth. She wanted a home, constancy.

"Is it so much to ask," Maria said, stepping toward her husband, "to have a place to call ours, raise our children, one day welcome more?"

He did not respond to her words nor her proximity, so she sighed and sat on the opposite side of their sad, pitiful bed and bowed her head. "I will back down if you'll just tell me what is wrong. Did you not like it? Is it too far from New York? Is it truly beyond our means?"

"We have a home, Maria. A home where we were supposed to live our lives, raise our family. I would watch you blossom into every ounce the baroness you are and laugh with you behind closed doors over the idiocy of the aristocracy. I would have welcomed many more children into the nursery. I would have shown you the world, and our children also. I would have taken us all to England, for the opportunity to give the children a relationship with their grandparents that they deserve, and for them to meet you as well. I would give you the life you so richly deserve."

"Except…" Maria whispered, her heart breaking, "except, love, that this home is no more. It is gone." She raised her head to find that her gaze met his, and she was startled to see tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, darling," Maria said, climbing fully onto the bed and reaching for her husband to cradle his head on her breast. "My darling Georg."

His hands grappled for her, and found her arms as she rocked him, and it was perhaps the most honest moment of grief and sorrow he had felt since Agathe's passing.

"I think I understand now," Maria said a while later, pressing a kiss to her husband's head. "You wanted to save as much money as possible so that we would have the means to return."

Slowly, he nodded.

Tightening her grasp around him, Maria let out a shaky breath. "Then we will not touch the salvaged fortune."

But it was though finally saying the words out loud had given Georg the clarity he had been trying for months upon months to summon alone. His foolishness was made clear, as well as the hope Maria had found in this dreadful situation in which they found themselves.

"No," he said. "You are right, Maria. I was wrong, I was a fool to believe that we might be able to go back. That world, that life, that Austria… it is gone, lost to me forever."

Maria released her husband from her embrace and framed his face with her hands, shaking her head slowly. "There is nothing to be ashamed of for building dreams amongst the rubble of others long shattered."

"Even so… there is a war on, now. Everything has changed."

"And that may be," Maria agreed, knowing it would be utterly useless to fight against her husband's military instinct, on which she was no expert. "But it is not a foolish thing to dream of one day returning."

"Maria…"

"Do I think your plans a bit excessive? Yes," Maria carried on, "but only because I think that by the time this horrible war draws to a close, our number may be much fewer, and the eldest may not even want to leave America, which would well be their right. A better idea might be to save a bit of money for just us. If the children wish to follow, we'll find the money when the time comes. In the meantime, we should use everything else to buy that farm in Vermont and make a new life. A different one."

Georg swallowed, wondering if there was no end to the sacrifices and compromises his wife was willing to make simply because she loved him.

"You are more than I ever deserved," Georg muttered, "and I'm sorry for the grief I've put you to."

"I should have known, though," Maria said, looking at her husband sadly. "I was so focused on what I wanted for us that I didn't consider everything you've been put through in these long months. Forgive me?"

"Always."


	8. Acquiescence

1948  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>Wrapped up in her husband's arms, Maria giggled as his breath tickled her neck and he whispered endearments to her. They were burrowed underneath the covers, pleased to be abed even as the dawn broke and light filtered through the curtains, casting everything in a golden hue.<p>

"We really must get up at some point," Maria laughed, writhing about as her husband began to kiss her face, neck, and décolletage.

"Yes, I can only imagine what our holy terrors have in mind for us today," Georg smirked, fingering the lace along the hemline of her nightgown. "How did you sleep in this?" he asked. "I appreciated it very much of course, but it is so cold now!"

Indeed, outside the window was drift upon drift of snow, and judging from the silence in this moment, the winds of the previous night had died down.

"Luckily for me, I had my sea captain to keep me warm," Maria said with a twinkle in her eye. "I thought perhaps we would be up half the night with the little ones through that dreadful storm, but the odds were in our favor!"

"I may have given them both a cup of malted milk while you were in the bath," Georg said. "I thought they might have nerves with the wind all but shaking the rafters, so I decided to be preemptive. Little did I know my foresight would have such enticing consequences!"

"So resourceful," Maria purred. "I am impressed!"

"I notice you're, uh, dressed again…"

"Hah, I couldn't resist checking on them when I woke last night. You were out cold, as always!" she teased.

"I can't help it if you're the most exhausting woman I've ever had the fortune to know," Georg growled. "I wouldn't mind a repeat of that, though, being well-rested now."

"Oh, ho," Maria said seriously, "you mean to tell me you gave less than your best?" Her brow puckered, and she wore a supremely crestfallen expression.

"You're really going to try to guilt me after I spent all day with a six-year-old and three-year-old, fed them, bathed them, read them their stories, sang them not one, but_ three_ songs, gave them Ovaltine, chased them around the nursery for half an hour, and finally managed to put them to bed?"

Maria was the one smirking, now. "_Three_ songs, Georg? You've gone soft!"

"It's that blasted alphabet song, and _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_."

"So patient," Maria praised, voice edged with humor. "But go on, I know you want to say it!"

Georg sighed. "Fine… I miss Austria. These American nursery rhymes make my head split and I find myself missing our German mother tongue more as they grow older."

"You do realize," Maria said, fingers tracing along the collar of her husband's flannel pajamas, "that I tell them stories and sing them songs almost exclusively in German and they're simply toying with you?"

"I know," Georg huffed. "But that's different; you've sang them traditional _Lieder_ from the day they were born. They _want_ you to sing those things and read those stories. Your voice is so expressive."

"Might I suggest trying something you haven't done since Friedrich and Kurt were younger?"

Brow furrowing in concentration, Georg said slowly, "What, do you mean telling them stories about my seafaring adventures? You think Rosemary would enjoy that?"

Maria laughed. "Yes. Yes, Georg, she would! And certainly little Johannes would be thrilled!"

"I suppose Rosemary's something of a swashbuckling pirate some days," Georg mused, chuckling to himself as he recalled his daughter's antics.

Just that moment, the door slammed open and the girl in question cried, "Good morning, _Mutti und Vati!_ Are you hiding from the bad guys?"

"Yes, Lady Rosemary!" Georg replied, poking his head out from beneath the covers to look at his daughter. "Pray tell, are we safe?"

The little girl giggled madly, nodding before whipping around and shouting to her toddling little brother to leave the hostages in the care of the King and Queen of the castle.

Curious, Maria emerged from beneath the covers and watched with her husband as Johannes hauled a large orange cat with a bushy, striped tail and great, amber eyes into his parents' bedroom. That Johannes was half-dragging the animal seemed to be of little consequence, and he clawed his way up the bedclothes the second he was close enough, curling up on Maria's lap and beginning to purr.

Johannes returned a moment later with a tabby kitten hanging over his arm and happily held the baby animal out to his mother, his ruddy face shining with glee. Maria reached down and scooped the little scrap up, chuckling at her overlarge ears and her son's determination to keep up with his sister, whom he idolized. The boy ran out again, and they could hear him thunking his way down the stairs.

Cuddling the kitten to her chest, Maria sighed. "I sometimes forget how mobile he is now."

Georg, however, was eyeing the kitten resting against Maria's breast with intense jealousy, while also shooting the indifferent tomcat, who was busy licking his paws, daggers of dislike.

Maria noticed this and set the kitten down with the tomcat, remarking, "Flocki and Schatzi tolerate you and their awful names, so I think the least you could do is appreciate that they make your children and wife very happy."

Before very long, the kitten began to bat at Flocki's long tail, and she found her delight in teasing him, of which he was exceedingly patient, only swatting at the kitten when she got too rough with her sharp little teeth. It was when she began to run circles around the orange tomcat that Georg laughed, unable to help himself.

Pleased, Maria settled back into the pillows and bit her tongue, holding off on the teasing she had in mind, for which she was richly rewarded:

"Her name is Mouser," Georg declared. "None of that 'sweetie' nonsense. She will have come by her name honestly before too long."

* * *

><p>"<em>Flocki<em>" means "fluffy," and "_Schatzi_" here means "sweetie."

For those interested, the German term for "mouser" is "_Mäusefänger_," literally "mice catcher."


	9. Consolation

1942  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>Maria rolled over, wrapping sheets around her body as she stood up and giggled at her husband, one hand on her head. "I don't know what to do with you, and I couldn't live without you," she grinned.<p>

"You could drop those sheets and rejoin me, love," her husband purred. "I think I could use another round of _that_."

"Oh, tush," Maria said, brushing him off somewhat abashedly. "You just woke a sleeping giant, I think."

"Oh, no. You're an absolute whirlwind."

"That wasn't quite so different as I had feared," Maria admitted, bending down to pick up some of the mess they had strewn about the floor. "This life-after-baby reality is messing with me."

Snaking an arm around Maria's waist as she sat down again to fold the pile in her arms, Georg shook his head and sighed. "How many times have I told you… you'll never be unattractive to me, no matter how much you think it to be so!"

"Yes, but," Maria whined, "I have my body back to myself, and it's like a whole new specimen to adjust to, now. It was easy to forget it at first because of how exhausting those first few weeks were; I simply could not find it in me to care. And it helped that I no longer felt nor appeared to be a whale."

"Mmm, that aspect has certainly disappeared fully by now," Georg agreed, "and I'm really rather impressed… you already fit into your old clothes, and Rosemary's hardly two months old."

Maria frowned. "You mean that?"

"You really think that a father of eight would begrudge his wife her changed body? Especially with the nine-month precursor?"

"Well, not this father, then," Maria breathed, shoulders visibly slackening. "I'm sorry to complain, I forget sometimes that I've only just delivered a baby, and then do or feel or see something that reminds me, and I'm all at once so happy but so…"

Georg pulled Maria back into their bed, draping long limbs over hers. He watched the expression on her face change slightly as the moments passed and she tried to find a word that was befitting her need to be candidly honest but also not unfair to the little red-headed baby that was sleeping in her bassinet in the guest bedroom.

"Disoriented," Maria finally decided. "It was frightfully easy to return to life as usual, working, keeping house, all the things I am called upon to do. But there's this new, tiny human being that sits in the back of my mind and consumes my every thought when I'm not with her."

Georg chuckled warmly. "It's called being a new mother, my love. You'll sort it out, eventually. Besides, I think I managed to drive everything from your mind for an hour or so, wouldn't you say?"

"That might be a bit generous," Maria said, eyes lighting up with mirth at Georg's somewhat crestfallen face. "I'm teasing, you petulant child!"

"Oh, really," he pouted.

"Really," Maria assured. "Besides, you ever so kindly pointed out all the ways in which having a baby has given me some new advantages for you to appreciate while loving me."

"Indeed I did," Georg agreed, feeling somewhat assuaged for Maria's teasing. He'd been exceedingly gentle and took his utmost care with her, using it as an opportunity to show her with tenderness that he both wanted her and possessed full awareness of how things had changed since the last time they had been intimate. In some ways, it was identical to making love to her for the very first time.

Convincing her had taken some wheedling, though in fairness she had just nursed the baby and had at the time looked like she would rather fall over and take a nap along with Rosemary, but he had managed it, expecting completely to have to take full charge even though his words of longing had gone several lengths toward putting a spark in her eye.

It had been his charge, at first, to send her to heights of pleasure. But somewhere between laughing in an entangled heap together after what was to be the only round and kissing each other with amorous passion, she had found her stride and had surprised him utterly.

"You were quite a bit rougher than I thought would be comfortable," Georg remarked.

Maria shrugged, saying, "I discovered a small shred of control that became my aphrodisiac. You said you liked it!"

"So you do understand what I'm telling you, then!" Georg exclaimed happily.

"I suppose," Maria admitted, "but only in a very obtuse, self-centric way."

"It's not your body precisely that I find enticing," Georg offered. "The years, our children, health, those all will change it. If what we have together was based solely on the body you had when I married you, don't you think we would both be very miserable right now instead of riding the last waves of a glorious high?" He gestured to himself. "Surely I've not been the same, and you enjoy me just fine."

"More as the years go by," Maria mused.

"Yes," Georg said, nudging her toward the crux of his argument.

"It's what you do, how you make me feel, how close I we are…"

Smiling broadly, Georg took her hands and kissed each knuckle, saying, "Do you see, Maria, why you should not fret so? You're plenty young, time will bring the old familiarity with your body back, and you'll adjust to any permanent change as though it always was. You already couldn't live without our daughter!"

Maria nodded, quirking a slight smile, but then sighed. "I don't think I can accept this all so fast, so soon, but at least you're always here to remind me of what I lose sight of among the crying and the bickering and the yelling that goes on all day with eight children, and well into the night with an infant."

"My love, it is the very least I can do for you."


	10. Amends

1941  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>"I wish the weather wasn't so awful," Maria sighed. "I want to ride the horse!"<p>

"Patience, love," Georg chuckled. "I'm sure the skies will clear eventually."

"It feels like we're back in Austria, sometimes," she observed. "You would think we'd get a bit less rain for having moved across an entire ocean."

"This sounds like a prime opportunity to give you a lesson on latitude and longitude," said Georg, a remark which earned him a punch to the shoulder.

"Really, Georg," Maria said crossly. "I am quite well-versed, having had many a lecture from a certain sea captain. Regale me with something more appropriate for bedtime!"

"Well, if sleep is your objective, then I would say it's the perfect thing to lull _you_ to sleep," Georg teased. "Me, on the other hand…"

"You would be awake all night," Maria finished.

"Yes," Georg mused, pulling Maria into his embrace, "so perhaps you're right, and we should talk of other things."

"The boys keep asking if they can build a treehouse," Maria commented. "They seem to think that the tree in front of the dining room window is ideal for such a spectacle."

"Did they ask you again today?" Georg asked.

She nodded. "Yes. I remained non-committal. I don't want to reject the request outright, but it certainly cannot go in the front yard. I told them they need to speak with you about it more extensively."

"I've been thinking about it," Georg said, "and there's a tree just beyond the forest line heading toward the creek that would be ideal. I'll take them out to walk the paths when the rain clears and the mud dries. It would be visible from the back of the house."

"I'm still not convinced that you should be up in a tree with a hammer," Maria said uncertainly.

Georg, who was handy enough around the chalet when push came to shove but preferred to be on the planning side of any project, nodded, but couldn't resist the opportunity presented to him: "Would you be more agreeable to the prospect if I allowed you to give me a few lessons in the finer aspects of tree climbing? It is your fault, after all, that my children can climb trees like monkeys and now see fit to make shacks in them!"

Maria opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again, lost for any response. Finally, she said, "I may have taught them to climb trees, but never have I once suggested that they should build anything in them! And anyway, where would I be if you fell and killed yourself?"

"I will have them enlist their friends' help." Georg assured hastily, realizing that Maria was becoming agitated. "Besides, it will be a good bonding experience for them all, and I have a feeling Louisa and Gretl will want to have a hand. No room for dear old Papa," he joked. "It's just as well, though. Best not push my luck!"

Calming down at her husband's words, Maria burrowed deeper under the covers and smiled, heart filling with gladness for the lasting revival of the children's name for Georg. "Father" was used most frequently still, but when the children were feeling particularly close or loving, "papa" slipped out of their mouths as easily as warm honey, and it was an endearment above all others.

"I so love that they call you 'Papa,'" Maria whispered. "It makes me so glad."

"Brigitta was the first to do it," Georg remembered, "and it startled me so much that I simply pretended that nothing was different. Then Louisa, of all people, said it to me in the heat of an argument, and that's when it really hit me that things were changing for us all."

"I remember the youngest two being intimidated," Maria added. "I was putting them to bed one night while we were in Lucerne and Marta asked me if she was allowed to call you papa again. That one so little was so aware not to take for granted everything that had come to pass knocked me sideways a bit. She started to cry, as she took my silence for the negative. I reassured her, of course, and there was plenty of hugging to go around. And then, the next morning…"

"The next morning, she greeted me with a fistful of wildflowers, a 'Good morning, Papa!' and a massive hug," Georg completed. "I shall never forget that moment. And now I see that I have you to thank for it."

Maria shook her head. "No, love. She did it of her own volition; she just needed a slight push and reassurance."

"Well, either way, had you not opened my eyes to my selfish follies, life would be very different, indeed."

"I'm so glad you listened," Maria said earnestly.

"And I'm so glad you stayed."

"I'm a very lucky woman to have done as many rash things as I have and have everything turn out so wonderfully."

"It pays to be the sore thumb where it is justified," Georg shrugged. "That shouting match was my due."

"I'm glad you see it that way now," Maria laughed, "because at the time I thought you might actually strike me! Louisa's kerchief was indisputably ideal."

"I suppose it might have been," Georg said, "but I have a gut feeling that had I done such a thing, all hell would have broken loose and rained down upon my head."

"I was not already raising hell?" Maria asked, stifling a large yawn.

"You were," Georg affirmed. "You still do. And I am the luckiest man alive for it, because I get to call you mine."

"You are a very strange man, Georg von Trapp," Maria said as she gave her husband a loving kiss. "Only you would see my faults as a reason to love me."

"You do the same for me, Maria," Georg said as he turned out the lamp and drew her into his arms. "That is a precious thing to have."


	11. Volition

1938  
>Paris, France<p>

* * *

><p>Georg was watching his wife sleep, running a gentle hand up and down the length of her arm, and was sorely tempted to kiss her awake. He would not precisely call her an angel, as others might be tempted to do if the privilege to see her in this state was bestowed upon them, for her devilish charms beguiled him in waking hours and he knew well enough that she was anything but a delicate rose or celestial being. She was wholly and wonderfully human.<p>

But there was a definite aura of innocence about her, from her relaxed position curled up beside him, to her dark, thick eyelashes and the smattering of freckles that bridged across her nose and gave her fresh-faced beauty an edge of childish cuteness that he was most certain almost no one else could pull off. Just like her impossible hair, he mused. When he had met her it was not at its most flattering, but he had grown to love it, and her visible neck had been a source of fixation for a while, now. Finally being able to touch it that night in the gazebo, to caress her, to hold her close… it was a dream made real, and he still found it difficult to fathom, weeks later, that those things had happened at all. But, here they were. Married, in Paris, in love and in lust. He could think of nothing better.

Maria's eyes fluttered open, and Georg smiled, leaning in to claim the kiss he'd been wishing for only moments before. Her hand reached up to frame his face and she gave a low sound of approval, mirroring his contented smile as he pulled away to look at her.

"That was wonderful," she said, clearing her throat. "But you're thinking, I can tell you were thinking about something just now. Tell me."

"What I'm always thinking, here with you, my love," Georg said.

"Forgive me, that kiss was marvelous, but I don't quite believe that you gave it to me with no forethought. You had that look on your face."

"I was thinking," Georg said, punctuating his speech with kisses down her bare arm, "how lovely you look in sleep, how innocent, how it belies the wickedly delicious nature that you possess in waking hours."

"Oh, good," Maria breathed, sitting up to kiss him again. "I thought it might be my nose, again."

"This time it was your freckles," Georg grinned, "and your marvelous eyelashes. Few people are so blessed to have such combinations of physical good looks that are altogether simple and charming, but also deadly attractive."

"Well, it's good that only you seem to have found me attractive then," Maria said, an amused eyebrow raised, "otherwise someone might have snatched me up before you made your move!"

Georg's face darkened at this comment, and Maria had the sense that something was amiss.

"Georg?"

"I don't think you realize how many men let their gazes linger far too long on you," he growled. "It is indecent."

"Considering that I have donned more finery and worn more makeup in the past month than I have ever worn in my life, I think you should regard it as a compliment," Maria soothed.

"How do you figure?"

"You saw me without all the glitz and glamour of this aristocratic life and you thought me beautiful. How many men would have turned up their nose at me had they seen what I arrived on your doorstep wearing? Certainly Franz had already written me off!"

"Franz is an idiot," Georg said, unable to help himself. "Foolish Nazi sympathizer that he is. He thinks I do not know. But," he hurried, seeing Maria's stern expression, "I see your point. And it is well made. But that doesn't mean I can't feel jealous over inappropriate stares or comments, and God forbid any one of them make a pass at you. I can't help myself. You are my wife, and I love you."

"And I love you," Maria giggled, tracing his jaw tenderly. "I shall always be grateful to the Reverend Mother for her insistence that I return to you."

"Would you have stayed at the abbey, Maria, had I not broken things off with Elsa?" Georg was loathe to ask such a thing, but the question had lived in the back of his mind ever since he first noticed that Maria garnered quite a lot of male attention, oblivious though she was. He had not made up his mind whether it would be appropriate to ask such a thing, but she would let him know if she was displeased by it, he was sure, and the opportunity _had_ presented itself now, one that she gave him.

"I think I would have gone back to discuss my options, but I was never a popular candidate for the novitiate and it was made clear to me that my purpose lay somewhere outside a convent. What with love burning in my heart for a man, I would have left."

"What would you have done?"

"What I did before the convent, I suppose," Maria answered. "I worked as a seamstress after I left school. I could have taught, too, or trained as a nurse or midwife."

"You still could have done all of that, and yet you chose to be my wife and a mother to seven children," Georg said, a touch of awe in his voice.

"I think what the Reverend Mother was trying to tell me without so many words is that one can have many skills or talents in life… but it is up to us to decide which ones are true to our heart, and then follow them."

"You don't doubt your heart?"

"Then? Every second of every day. But now… now, I see that God works far beyond human comprehension, and gives us the strength to recognize what He has put there and made right. I simply had to choose to follow it and use it."


	12. Devotion

1945  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>"There you are!"<p>

Georg looked up toward the bedroom door to see his wife leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him as he cradled their newborn son. She wore a contented expression, a gentle smile in place.

"I just wanted to have him to myself for a while," Georg said, looking back down at the little boy in his arms, swaddled tightly in a blanket, still red-faced, and his head covered with a dark thatch of silky black hair.

"I had wondered where you got off to," Maria said, coming to join her husband and sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. "One minute you were playing with Rosemary and the next, she's crying in a heap on the floor about her doll's messed up hair and you and baby are nowhere to be seen!"

"I didn't mean to make you worry," Georg apologized. "It just doesn't seem right if he's not in someone's arms, and Liesl had to leave."

Brushing back the little cowlick at the crown of her son's head, Maria bent down to press a kiss to his forehead and said perceptively, "It's been rather a long time since you've had a baby son to dote on."

Georg paused at this, having been preoccupied with loosening the swaddling, and looked up at his wife. She reached out to help, removing the blanket from the baby so that he could lie contentedly on his father's chest, little limbs outstretched. He protested at the amount of movement, but settled down again quickly and had grabbed onto one of Georg's fingers.

Maria looked up from the task to find Georg's gaze still on her, and she shrugged. "It wasn't hard to see your excitement at having another son, and after six girls, who am I to blame you?"

Sidling up beside him, Maria took the nearer of Johannes' tiny hands into her own. "It's sweet, Georg. You're a darling with every child, but this is something truly special to see. Certainly I've found you with Rosemary in similar circumstances, but I was so much less willing to relinquish her, being my first… and there really is something special in the father-son bond. I want you to cherish it at every opportunity. Never apologize for that."

Georg took clasped one hand with Maria's, smiling at her. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Exhausted," Maria said decisively. "And still quite sore. I feel as though I've been through a boxing match from the inside out. But that will pass soon enough."

"Don't rush yourself," Georg admonished, "it's only been a week!"

"I promise I haven't been doing anything that I don't want to do," Maria assured, "as can be demonstrated by the mess in the kitchen and the pile of laundry."

Georg grimaced. "You saw that, then? I meant to have Kurt and Brigitta take care of that, and Liesl promised to take full charge of the laundry tomorrow morning."

"Yes," Maria laughed, "it was hard to miss."

"I do miss your cooking," Georg said, wrinkling his nose. "Louisa tries, but she's dreadful. Thank goodness for the thoughtfulness of our friends."

"You do cook a wonderful breakfast, Georg—breakfast in bed was much appreciated, by the way! I was about to thank you this morning and then that vase toppled and the baby cried on cue."

Georg chuckled lightly, keeping a firm hand on his son's back. "Rosemary says she's very sorry," he assured.

"Why do I feel like you're sorry for her and she's not sorry at all?" Maria smirked.

"She's jealous," Georg sighed. "A very jealous little girl. She asked me at dinner why we can't just put Johannes back where he came from."

"What did you tell her?"

"That her mother would not appreciate it in the least, and neither would her father nor her new brother. She pouted and refused to eat her peas."

Maria shook her head. "My poor little girl," she sighed. "Life is hard when you're three years old! Did she go to bed alright?"

"Out like a light," Georg confirmed. "She insisted very loudly that she was _not _tired, but I insisted loudly back that if she slept, morning would come quicker and she would get to see her friends at Mass tomorrow. I didn't make it halfway through The Pied Piper and she was asleep in my lap, heavy as a rock!"

"That sounds about right," Maria said with a knowing smile. "I need to scoop that little girl up and snuggle her, but she'd rather kick and flail."

"She'll figure it out soon that you really do need her to be gentle for a while, and that she needs to be gentle and quiet around Johannes, too."

"You think?" Maria asked, hand cupping her son's head as she stroked his hair. She was focused on his tiny face, memorizing every detail again and again.

"I didn't make it through seven children without resolving several jealous spats," Georg said with a reassuring squeeze. "Her desire to be with you and her curiosity about the baby will win out and she'll calm down. Just keep offering your attention to her and she'll come around. She depends on you, and will eventually tire of me."

"Mama, Papa?"

Maria and Georg both looked up to find Rosemary standing in the open doorway, clutching her bear.

"Come here, my darling," Maria coaxed, reaching out an arm toward her daughter.

Eyeing the baby, she shuffled forward as Maria rose from the bed, arms open, and then launched herself at her mother.

"Oof," Maria winced, but she stroked her daughter's head soothingly, gathering her up into her arms and bundling her into the bed with her father and brother.

Over Rosemary's little body, the two parents shared a knowing glance, then settled back to help the child count Johannes' tiny appendages.

"He can stay," she yawned some five minutes later, promptly falling asleep nestled between her parents, a little hand now resting on her brother's back.


	13. Refuge

1950  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>Maria kicked the bedcovers away from her legs and swung out of bed, ready to go fetch the crying Eleanor for her nighttime feeding, but it seemed that her husband was already awake, sitting in the dark corner of their room in a large armchair, and he said, "No, let me get her," and he rose to do so, stuffing his feet into a pair of slippers on his way out the door.<p>

Maria grabbed her dressing gown and turned on her bedside lamp, shivering in the chilly early morning air that was their bedroom. The nursery was much warmer, they had made sure of that, but Maria was quite certain that her husband was not sitting wide awake in the dark on this chilly February morning for no reason, and thumbing through the pocket calendar they kept at their bedside she remembered the date amidst the fog in her brain, and Maria knew immediately what was amiss.

Georg shuffled back into the bedroom several minutes later, youngest daughter held snugly to his chest, and went to recline on the bed amongst the pillows Maria had propped up for them. He handed the whimpering child to her when he saw that she was prepared to take her, settling back to watch his daughter nurse.

Once the child had latched on and was suckling comfortably, Maria turned her attention to her husband. "You're brooding," she said.

His eyes shifted to hers for a moment, and he took in her kind, if tired, expression, and knew this was no reprimand, but he returned his gaze to his daughter with a slight shrug.

Reaching out, Maria took the hand resting between them and squeezed it reassuringly. "This too will pass," she promised, then fell silent, electing to follow Georg's lead.

"Some years are harder than others," he murmured as Maria shifted Eleanor to her other breast some quarter hour later. "I wish I knew why. I wish I knew so I could prepare for it."

"You know I have never minded," Maria said gently.

"Yes," Georg agreed, "and for that I love you more every day. But some years, the anniversary of her death passes quietly, as though I've simply lost a dear friend… and others, it's as if my world has been torn away all over again."

Maria looked down at the baby suckling contentedly in the crook of one arm and wondered if she should share the observations she had made through the years. Grief was not something one could anticipate or box up, she knew, but it might help him to put a handle on it and understand what he was feeling just a bit better.

"If you would rather not, I understand completely," Maria said, "but I have noticed some things, my love, over twelve years as your wife."

Grasping at her words, Georg looked at his wife and said with a raspy voice, "Please do. Anything to help me understand this even the smallest bit."

"I've noticed you struggle more when the children do," Maria said. "Their bad year becomes your bad year, especially if one is taking it particularly hard. And you certainly have had bad years when Rosemary and Johannes were small also, close to the age Gretl was."

Georg returned his gaze to Eleanor, pensive. It seemed Maria had worked out a fairly consistent pattern for when he would be at his worst… and she always knew best how to help. How, he did not know. If he were in the same situation, he felt he would be utterly helpless, with no idea of the proper thing to do or say. Maria, though, always seemed to know when it was better to stay quiet, or better to distract him, and even better still, as she was now, to provide some perspective that he hadn't truly considered before.

There was one thing she never offered him, however, and one thing he never asked of her on this day. It had been an unspoken agreement between them from the first anniversary of Agathe's death that passed in their time as a married couple. Somehow, something about lovemaking on this day seemed entirely too crass to them both, and words were not needed.

Instead, Maria usually endeavoured to see that it was a day of remembrance. Every year it manifested itself differently, but regardless, she was adamant. With Georg, she particularly insisted that he say his late wife's name aloud, perhaps share something, a story or happy memory.

"I remember when Louisa was born," Georg said, breaking the silence. "Friedrich was just over a year old and had been recently weaned, but he still cried like the world was ending upon learning that his mother was feeding a baby that was not he."

Maria gave a slight laugh, looking to her husband and waiting expectantly.

"Agathe was exhausted; Louisa's birth was very difficult. And yet she could not bear to see her little boy crying. She insisted that I hand him off to her and soon had a child cradled in each arm, crooning to them both. He calmed, Louisa had fallen asleep, and she looked up at me with a face so full of happiness that I thought my heart might melt right then."

"What was she singing?" Maria asked, intent on pulling the fine details out of her husband.

"_Nacht und Träume_," Georg said.

"I see…"

Maria often sang _Lieder_ to her children; Schubert's were her favourite, and her husband had always loved this particular one.

Shifting Eleanor around in her arms, Maria settled the child on her chest and wrapped an arm around Georg's shoulders, holding him close. He leaned his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes.

"Rest, love," Maria murmured. "Dawn will soon arrive."

"Sing it for me?"

And so she did, placing all the love and pain and longing and hope of the song into her voice, allowing it to be the balm that she could never hope to be on this day.

_Heil'ge Nacht, du sinkest nieder;  
><em>_Nieder wallen auch die Träume  
><em>_Wie dein Mondlicht durch die Räume,  
><em>_Durch der Menschen stille Brust.  
><em>_Die belauschen sie mit Lust;  
><em>_Rufen, wenn der Tag erwacht:  
><em>_Kehre wieder, heil'ge Nacht!  
><em>_Holde Träume, kehret wieder!_

* * *

><p><em>Holy night, you sink low;<br>As the dreams also flow  
>Like your moonlight through the rooms,<br>__Through the people's still breast.  
>They listen with desire;<br>They call when the day awakens:  
>Return again, holy night!<br>Lovely dreams, return again!_

_Nacht und Träume _(1825), Franz Schubert (composer) & Matthäus von Collin (lyricist)


	14. Treasure

1938  
>Aigen, Austria<p>

* * *

><p>Maria sighed, looking around the master bedroom as she unbuttoned her traveling coat. Though she wished it was under better circumstances, it was nice to be home once again.<p>

She draped her coat over the bedstead and kicked away her shoes, lying down on top of the bed and closing her eyes.

The ride home had been tense. Georg was upset, for several reasons: firstly, that they had to leave Paris several weeks early. Secondly, because he had been woken that morning not by his wife, but by the shrill ringing of the telephone and a stack of papers waiting to be read that all said the same thing: Austria had been annexed to Germany, and the _Anschluss_ was now the new reality. Thirdly, he was absolutely livid to pull into the drive and find the great red, swastika-adorned flag hanging from the doorstep.

Maria swallowed. He had stormed into the house and went in search of Franz, barking angry words at whatever servants he happened across. She had no doubt he was now reaming out the butler, or otherwise in search of an answer as to why the Nazis had been allowed to do such a thing, and whom had been responsible. Never mind that the house was devoid of seven children.

Unable to watch his angry helplessness and knowing there was precious little she could do, Maria had supervised the unpacking of the things they'd brought home for the children, having it all sent to the ballroom terrace. And then she had climbed stairs and walked until she found herself here.

"Frau Schmidt says Max took the children out, and they're not expected back for an hour or two yet."

Maria opened her eyes and raised her head slightly, gaze following Georg as he entered the room, dropped his hat at the foot of the bed alongside Maria's coat, and joined her on the bed. She nodded.

"And I know I promised you an induction to this room as a fitting tribute to the end of our honeymoon," Georg said, "but I am exhausted."

Maria made a noise of disbelief. "Do not be silly. Of course that would not be appropriate, not in light of the news and this long travel. Rest. The children will be here soon."

"I can't stop the thoughts from racing through my mind," he said. "It's surreal. It can't be truth. And yet, there was the flag… everywhere. Seeing it adorned through the square of Salzburg was nothing to the revulsion at seeing it on my own doorstep."

"Surely if you take it down, they'll just demand it to be replaced, or do it themselves, as they have clearly done already."

"I'm tearing it down, regardless," Georg said. "And I'll tear down each successive one."

Maria turned her head to look at her husband, and clasped a hand with his, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I'm so sorry, my love," she whispered. "I know this is not what you wanted for Austria. For us. For the children."

"It was only a matter of time," Georg said bitterly.

"No one could know that for certain," Maria said quietly. "Nothing is certain until it happens."

Georg peered at his wife, frowning. "I know I have done most of the ranting and you have done most of the listening over these last weeks, but you don't think me a fool?"

Brow knitting, Maria said admonishingly, "What a question, Georg von Trapp! One does not compromise the things they value and have sacrificed their lives for simply for creature comforts and a temporary security."

"The more I think on it and the more that comes to pass just as Zeller said it would, though… and there are the children to consider. Perhaps I should not be so unwavering if tolerating this new regime means giving them a future."

Maria sat up and shook her head, looking down at her husband with a bemused expression. She took his face in her hands, and she said, "Georg, I may not know as much as you, nor understand nearly as much about how this frightful bureaucratic world in the capital works as you do, but I _do _know you. Very well, I like to think, and it is a testament to what we have built together while on our own for nearly two glorious months."

She paused, lovingly brushing the front lock of his hair back off his forehead. "What I know," she said, gaze unwavering, "is that I have a husband of incredible character, staunchly principled, so incredibly loving and passionate, and because of that you cannot bring yourself to alignment with something that you find abhorrent.

"As for the children," she continued, placing a finger to his lips as he began to protest her words, "what does it teach them, if they see their father standing against something for so long even though it was a losing battle and then suddenly turning coat because that's the easy or expected thing to do? One does not continue allegiance to something which has changed so completely so as to be unrecognizable."

"How do you even find the words, let alone wisdom?"

"I've been through it," Maria said quietly.

Georg opened his mouth, ready to ask her what she meant, but it was at noticing the glistening tears in her eyes that he understood her meaning.

"Of course," he breathed, exhaling long. "Your vows."

She nodded.

Suddenly her patience, understanding, and defense of him and his principles went so far beyond her giving spirit, and Georg was all at once humbled and grateful that this was the woman he was privileged to call his wife. Certainly, the situation was not precisely the same, but the struggle of loyalties of the heart… it was one and the same.

"Remind me," he whispered, "_never_ to take you for granted. You are a treasure beyond all treasures, my darling Maria, my heart, my love."

"If you do the same for me," Maria promised.

* * *

><p>"<em>For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."<em> Luke 12:34, KJV


	15. Habituated

1946  
>Stowe, VT<p>

* * *

><p>Georg grunted in his sleep, and his eyes snapped open when he felt the full weight of something heavy colliding into him. "Not that cat again," he growled, but was met with high pitched giggles instead.<p>

"It's me, Papa," said Rosemary, grinning at her father. "Flocki is outside, silly! It's not time for snow, yet."

Rubbing his eyes, Georg rolled over onto his back, taking Rosemary with him, and she landed between him and Maria. He craned his neck to find Maria awake and cradling Johannes.

She looked down at him with an apologetic smile and offered, "Happy anniversary, love."

"Why didn't you wake me?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Because," Maria shrugged, nodding her head at their son. "You were up late with him, and Rosemary came to fetch me. I was up, so there was no reason to wake you."

Ruffling his daughter's head, Georg propelled himself upward to kiss his wife good morning and echoed the anniversary sentiment, then commented, "We really ought to give Rosemary her own bedroom, wouldn't you say?"

Eyes crinkling as she smiled down at her daughter, who was twisting a bright red curl around one finger and observing her parents with wide blue eyes, Maria chuckled. "I don't know, what do you think about this, Rosemary? Is it time to move you out of the nursery?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "I'm a big girl!"

Glancing over at the bedside clock, Maria saw that it was nearly 6 am. "Sweetheart, why don't you go wake your sisters, then go make your bed for me and make sure your room is tidy."

"Can I pick out my dress?"

"As long as it's warm enough, sweetheart," Maria assured, and the little girl hurried away, eager to carry out her favourite task: banging on all the bedroom doors on the second floor.

Turning back to her husband, Maria opened her mouth to apologize and offer a more satisfactory good morning, but found he was avidly staring at her while one hand toyed with Johannes' little fingers.

"Your laugh lines," he said immediately, "around your eyes. Something about the low light when you were smiling at Rosemary just now."

"Wonderful," Maria joked, "a sign that my children are aging me." She picked up Johannes and stood him on his feet, crooning softly before handing him over to Georg. He took the boy happily, brushing a part into his dark, thick hair and kissing him. "Hard to believe he's almost a year old," Georg sighed. "But don't distract me!"

"What?" Maria asked, eyes sparkling with innocent laughter.

"You know well what," Georg said, put out. "I was just observing how lovely you are, how you're lovelier as the years go on, how you're ever so beautiful, and my wife. _My_ wife."

"Have I ever mentioned that you might consider taking up as a poet?" Maria teased. "For a stern sea captain, you can certainly find flowery language to butter me up quite easily!"

"A time or two," Georg confirmed, now playing peek-a-boo with his son. Johannes was giggling happily, looking significantly more bright-eyed and less red-faced than he had the night before. "Though the trouble is that anything I would have to say is more or less for your eyes only. I couldn't have the world knowing my every secret!"

Smirking, Maria acknowledged, "You certainly have a few well-kept secrets, dear Captain of mine. Always keep me guessing, always on my toes."

"It's been the best eight years, Maria, sharing them with you," Georg said, placing their son in a sitting position between them, propped up by the pillows. "Things have not always been as nice as they are now, but we have each other and we have our children, and I wouldn't give that up for anything in the world."

"Neither would I," Maria said, offering a finger to her early-rising son to grab onto. "He looks much better, Georg. Thank you for staying up with him."

"Anything to get you an occasional full night's rest," he grinned. "More for me!"

At this, Johannes spurted out a long, happy babble, waving at both of his parents furiously, bouncing himself. They laughed together, Maria eventually wiping tears from her eyes.

"It sounds like this little man strongly agrees!"

"I can see why. Happy mother, happy baby!"

"Indeed," Maria said, leaning over her son to give her husband a more suitable good morning kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Georg said, rubbing a thumb along her jawline. "And a man could not ask for a better gift than to wake up with his wife and children surrounding him. Happy anniversary, dear heart."

"I'm glad that wasn't too disconcerting," Maria said with a grin. "You know how Rosemary gets. She accepts her little brother and even shows him little tokens of affection, but if she feels she's being left out of something, she _will_ insert herself."

"Right into my groin," Georg grumbled. "Just like Gretl, she never misses the target. Ever."

Maria giggled at this, unable to help herself. "You're getting better at hiding your discomfort! I didn't notice a thing."

"Well, I can still make my wife giggle like a schoolgirl," Georg sighed. But he grinned in spite of himself, and said, "Are you looking forward to our plans for the day?"

"I only reminded Liesl ten times last night to collect the little ones before lunch," Maria said. "I'm beyond excited. A show in Montpelier, dinner, dancing, a hotel room? I almost feel the blushing bride again!"

"Oh, no," Georg said firmly. "That is most definitely not allowed. I loved that blushing bride madly, but there is a reason she was eight years ago and I have the wonder that is you sitting here with me now, our son between us a proof of that."

Maria looked down at Johannes and shook her head. With a grin, she muttered, "Impertinent."

"What was that? I didn't quite catch you."

"Oh, you!" Maria sighed, but she was laughing.


	16. Quandary

1939  
>Lucerne, Switzerland<p>

* * *

><p>Maria frowned at her husband as she reached out to stroke his brow, oblivious to the afterglow of the impromptu lovemaking session that had taken hold of him, his eyes closed and his breathing slowing, chest rising and falling in tandem with his heartbeat.<p>

Georg opened one eye. "What?"

Pulling away from her husband's attempt to snake his arms around her, Maria tutted.

"I wish you wouldn't get so preoccupied over being the chivalrous lover that puts me first in all things," she chided.

Georg groaned, opening both eyes to look up at his wife. "Surely not this again?"

"Yes, this again," Maria said, jaw set stubbornly.

Sighing, Georg elbowed his way into an elevated sitting position and gazed at his wife, whose body mirrored his in her still-heaving chest and the light sheen of sweat that had broken out and dampened her skin. But where he was ready to pull her into his arms and fall to sleep, sated and warm and gloriously sleepy, she was agitated, and this wouldn't do.

"I've told you, I prefer to be sure that the woman I love reaches the heights of pleasure, and thoroughly so. Is that such a bad thing?"

Tilting her head to one side, Maria shook her head. "No, and I love you for it. But I don't like the idea that you're holding yourself off for my sake, especially when it's been so long and you're clearly starved to have me."

"Maria, part of my enjoyment is seeing to it that you do!"

Raising an eyebrow, Maria said, "Turnabout is fair play. There is no single aphrodisiac more powerful to me than seeing you lose your every shred of control because of what we're partaking in."

"That's fair," Georg conceded, "but what is it that frustrates you so? I truly don't see it."

"I find it enormously satisfying that for just a moment, you're beyond yourself and your infuriating sense of decorum and rules, which somehow seem to apply fairly broadly across our most private moments even though there's only God as our witness."

Georg had opened his mouth, but at her words, his response died on his lips.

"I think," Maria said, surveying her husband's reaction, "you forget that when it's just us, you don't have to be the captain, the father, the husband, or even the ever-consummate lover."

"But I do," Georg countered, brow furrowing.

"There's obligation and there's habit," Maria said patiently. "I don't need you to be impossibly strong, I just need you to trust me enough to _not_ need that unrelenting expectation of yourself. You promised me that you would never be a selfish lover, and you aren't, but the only thing I expect of you is that at the end of a long day, we come back to each other and our bed and each other's embrace and be the one entity that we are in God's eyes."

He swallowed, reaching out for his wife.

This time, Maria obliged, pressing her body up against his, hands caressing his face and toying with the lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "You're always so principled," she murmured. "Even when it kills you, you'll stand up to do what is right. All I'm asking is that in our refuge, you let that go sometimes."

"I feel like there's a lingering 'but'…" Georg trailed, finally finding his voice.

"Actually, not 'but,'" Maria corrected, "rather 'and.'"

"Ah… behind all that effusive wisdom is a base desire after all," Georg said, lips curling into a smile as he squeezed his wife tightly. "I had begun to wonder if you'd rejoined the order."

"Don't joke," Maria said earnestly, fighting a blush. "I can't help it, that's just how I feel about you and I… it touches something in me, what we have together. It resonates to the core of my soul. I'm wholly convicted of the truth on that score."

"Yes, and you're right, but back to the issue at hand… the 'and?'" Georg prodded expectantly. "Probably equal in weight as to why you are so annoyed with me in this post-coital bliss."

The blush returned, and Maria cleared her throat. "Remember when we were in Paris, and after a week of deprivation, you were so wrapped up in having your way with me that you lost your ironclad control of yourself and, uh, came before me?"

"Yes," Georg said, "though I seem to recall…"

"That I followed suit very quickly afterward? Yes," Maria affirmed with a nod.

"Uh, more aptly put, quickly and _intensely_," Georg amended. "Are you saying there was more reason than heightened arousal?"

"It was the first time I could feel you filling me when you came," she said. "I felt so warm, full, loved, wanted… it was incredible. It has happened again from time to time, and I prefer not to fixate on reaching certain goals when intimate, but if you could just let yourself go a bit more, now and then, I can promise that not putting me first would not be a slight in the least."

"I see…"

Maria looked up at her husband and found that he was wearing a mischievous expression.

"Oh, dear…" she breathed.

"Oh, my love," Georg growled, laughter rumbling in his chest. "I do believe you've just opened up an invitation for further iteration of your point. Though in the interest of finishing this conversation, I won't pretend to understand and I don't find myself feeling much clearer on the matter at hand."

Maria sighed, shaking her head. "I thought not, but I needed to say something, not have it lingering unbidden in the back of my mind as it sometimes does."

"Maybe one day I'll magically possess the ability to understand your mysterious mind perfectly," Georg said, kissing his wife. "But until then… show me."

"I have every intention," Maria assured, "and that might be just the thing you need—practical application."

"I like the sound of that."

"Yes, I thought you might."


End file.
